Recovery
by mcj
Summary: International Rescue existed to make a difference in the world ... to save lives ...to live Jeff Tracy's dream. But when it came to a fateful series of events in Australia... things changed... Rated at the higher end of T (in later chapters this rating may change)
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note**__ - This is a story that has been three years in the making. I am glad to finally share it. Constructive feedback is very welcome. As always, I thank my FAB beta, Jaimi-Sam, who finds the plot holes, helps with the gaps and keeps me on track with all the characters._

* * *

******* RECOVERY *******

Written by "mcj"

**PROLOGUE **

* * *

**Disclaimer** - _The characters in this story, other than my own, are temporarily borrowed from the creative genius Mr Gerry Anderson._

**Warning**_ - Later chapters contain concepts that may upset some readers. Rest assured the rating will be lifted when this occurs. _

_**Tracy Island - January 26, 2027**_

_**A Field Commander waits...**_

It's three twenty three am and I'm damned tired …

…_damned _tired...

..._damned _anxious…

I'm also not the only one who should have been in bed at least four hours ago.

But _he_ won't sleep…

…. so I _can't_ sleep.

Not since John gave him the heads up that our services might be required.

"Bad weather in the North Sea, Father…"

I've heard that monotone too many times before.

"…no real problems as yet. The captain thinks he can handle the situation."

"OK John. Just keep an eye on it, for now."

"FAB."

You had to give me a little credit for only rolling my eyes when I heard.

Sure, the captain of a ninety five thousand tonner thinks he can handle the situation. They all think they can when it starts. They all seem to have this crazy idea that the bigger they are the more invincible they become and that disaster simply chooses to dance around them.

We're the ones who have to deal with the stark reality when it doesn't.

They'll freeze to death before they drown.

I guess I should have kept a lid on how I felt about waiting for the official distress call to come in. Dad made it pretty clear he didn't appreciate my thoughts when I told him point blank what I thought about any procrastination. I can still see the look of agitation on his face when I told him, maybe more forcefully than I should have, that we should forget about all the protocol crap and get Thunderbirds One and Two out there right now.

"_Scott, you know that isn't how we do things around here." _

I know I should have recognised the warning in the growl when I heard it. Recognised it and simply poured myself a cup of the stone cold coffee from the pot he had sitting on the desk.

But what did I do?

I didn't; that's what. I let it rear up inside me before I had the chance to control it. The next thing I know that damned sealed compartment inside my psyche had burst wide open and was gushing out all over the place.

"_So what exactly __do__ we do, Father?"_

I don't even know where that one came from and neither did he.

"_We wait, son. That's what we do."_

That's all he said.

Head back down...

…glasses on…

…it would be his decision, if or when the Thunderbird machines would fly.

"_Sir, Virgil and I can both be airborne in less than fifteen minutes_," had zero impact; even with the compartment quickly bolted shut and a deliberate change in my approach.

His head never moved.

He didn't even acknowledge me.

"I'll wake you if we're needed," was the only indication that he'd even heard a damn word I'd said.

Look, I get why he's being extra cautious at the moment. Since the mission in Australia, I accept the fact that he's not prepared to involve the outfit like that again unless it's absolutely necessary.

But hell, that's one great big cargo ship bobbing around out there…

Damn you John...

…just make the call.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note – Thank you very much to those who reviewed the Prologue of this story and/or sent me private messages. As this story progresses it is important that you take note of the time-line. To save you looking back - the Prologue was set in the future (January 26 2027). This is now the story of the events which led to the prologue. __ mcj_

* * *

******* RECOVERY *******

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

_**December 26 2026**_

_**Blue Mountains **_

_**West of Sydney**_

_**Australia**_

David Townsend took a deep breath and swallowed hard in a last ditch attempt to convince himself that he wasn't about to embarrass himself by throwing up. They'd been twisting around these hairpin bends for the best part of two and half hours. How many more times was this horrible winding road going to veer around to the right, to the left and to the right again before they got to Wentworth Falls?

A glance at his twin brother, Jacob, told him that he wouldn't be alone if it came down to a "no holds barred" spew fest. Jake's deathly white face and look of absolute misery told him more than any words could. Too many more bends and turns in this fast road to hell and just like him, Jake would be in serious danger of losing his lunch.

"Are we there yet, Dad?" David groaned towards the front seat where his parents were deep in conversation about their investments on the international stock market.

"Still fifty two miles to go, honey," their mother called back. "Don't you worry, though. I'm sure Dad will have you there in plenty of time to do some exploring before it gets dark."

If he hadn't been feeling so blasted sick, David probably would have pointed out to his mother that he and his brother weren't ten years old anymore. Gone were the summers when they'd spent their days looking for anything with eight legs to make their mother scream at the top of her lungs. At fifteen, the thought of exploring anything was nothing short of an insult to their maturity. No-one in their right mind even wanted to _go_ to a dump like Wentworth Falls, let alone waste any time trying to explore it. Why couldn't their parents have dished out the cash and taken them up to Queensland instead? There were girls in skimpy bikinis up there. That was _every _fifteen year olds dream of exploration!

As the car rounded yet another bend, the conversation between his parents shifted from the pros and cons of re-investment to the magnificence of the sprawling New South Wales scenery. The Blue Mountains of Australia were a breath-taking sight as they appeared on the hot summer horizon, with massive outcrops of red and yellow sandstone sharply complemented by the blue hazed valleys and a carpet of emerald green eucalyptus trees.

"Wow, that's beautiful!" Laura Townsend enthused, taking in the colourful display.

"Yeah..._wow_," Jacob mumbled with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

"_Just great," _David added dejectedly, when all he really wanted to say was he didn't give a crap about miles of boring looking scenery.

"And did you guys know that this whole amazing thing is listed as a World Heritage site?" their father then joined in. "All one million hectares of it…hard to believe, I know. It took the government almost four years of argument in the Land Court before those new KV towers were allowed to be constructed through the middle of it."

David immediately forgot about the winding road and the dreadful feeling of the nausea. Dropping his head back, he looked up at the black upholstered roof of the brand new car and stifled a heavy sigh.

_Great! It was the KV tower shit all over again. _

If there was one thing that was less cool than being the son of an electrical design engineer, it was being in a car with exactly the same design engineer when he started reminiscing about the hurdles he'd overcome during the construction of the Sydney Bulk Community Power Project.

The Sydney Bulk Community Power Project, his father's brainchild, had taken precedence over everything in their lives for the best part of the past six years. At the height of it there had been no time for anything. No time for him and no time for Jacob. It had even taken priority over their mother's forty second birthday. His father seemed to think that a couple of National Design Awards and an oversized pay check somehow made up for all the years they had lost as a family. Well, it hadn't; and now that it was finally over, the last thing any of them wanted to hear about again was how much trouble the government had getting permission to construct the new design through the stupid Blue Mountains to Sydney.

However, Damian Townsend was now on a roll and he wasn't about to stop there. There was nothing he liked more than to talk about his pivotal role in the largest and most successful electricity delivery project ever undertaken in the country, and they had no choice other than to listen to him ramble on.

Those KV towers were a work of electrical engineering excellence, even if he did have to say so himself. Over fifteen hundred of them now stretched from Lithgow to Penrith, each a self-contained substation on their own. The amount of energy and the efficient way they distributed it was remarkable; an amazing innovation.

"Two hundred thousand Sydneysiders are now reaping the benefit of six years of your old man's visionary hard work," he continued to enthuse. "Even if you two kids live to be one hundred and fifty years old, you'll never see innovation any better than that."

The frustration finally got the better of David.

"Oh come off it Dad," he complained out loud, "how about you forget about those towers for a while?"

"And by the time you actually _**get **_us to Wentworth Falls, we'll _**be **_one hundred and fifty years old."

Jacob had had enough too.

Their father took the hint and shot a rueful glance at his fifteen year old twins though the rear vision mirror of the car. There was nothing like teenagers to remind a man when he'd lost touch with his key priorities. He still got carried away with his work at times and had faithfully promised Laura and the twins that this vacation would only be about doing things together as a family.

"OK, boys," he surrendered easily. "I guess I forgot myself, again. We're going to have a great time when we get to Wentworth Falls. Let's talk about that, instead."

* * *

_**December 27 2026**_

_**Tracy Island**_

_**Somewhere deep in the Pacific**_

Scott Tracy rolled over for the fifth time in under ten minutes in a futile attempt to make himself more comfortable. His skin was clammy with sweat and his body ached all over. Even the breeze wafting in through the open balcony doors made no difference. He was finding it difficult to get back to sleep.

He tore off the sheet and sat bolt upright, raking his hands through a mess of wavy, sweat drenched hair. Damn it! He hated it when he couldn't let go of a situation. Hated it more when he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He couldn't get today out of his mind.

He wasn't one to just shrug his shoulders and accept "that we just had a bad day," whenever there was a problem. To his way of thinking, a slip-up during training, even a small one, was a subtle warning they were slowly but surely heading for trouble.

The worst part was that it hadn't bothered his father all that much. Maybe after a full day of driving the Tracy Corporation into greater dominance of the aerospace market, Father thought his luck also extended to what might or might not happen during International Rescue operations.

In Father's defence, he had seemed more than a little preoccupied when Scott had stalked in behind three of his brothers and requested a few minutes of his time. Father had been in the throes of wrapping up trading for the day and was feeling pretty chuffed about the results of some rather good corporate decision making. Only someone like Jeff Tracy could have boldly floated a two per cent share of his company on the stock market and watched the share values quadruple in less than fifteen minutes. Only Jeff Tracy could make enough money to fund "the business" for the next two years before he'd sat down to lunch on the balcony with their grandmother, either.

He was in a good mood at the time and not about to give it up easily.

However, he was also the only one who could spell it out loud and clear to both Gordon and Johnny that they were expected to follow each step in the rescue process at all times. It might have only been a training exercise, but Scott considered rappelling down that cliff-face out at the Point every bit as dangerous as the real deal.

Once Father heard that, the good mood had faded. Brows knitted, lips pursed, he'd dropped the subject of funding the new high tonnage grabs for Thunderbird Two and indicated that the conversation was only to continue when they were alone and in the privacy of his study.

When the door closed behind them, there was no time wasted in getting straight to the point.

"_All right, what went wrong up there, Scott?" _

"_I'll damn well tell you, all right."_

The explanation didn't take very long.

All four of them had been undertaking the routine training exercise which should have taken less than two hours. It had been well over six months since they'd trained in roping and rappelling and Scott had decided that the best place to get in the practice was the sheer drop out at "the Point". The one hundred and ninety foot vertical cliff face located on the western edge of Tracy Island had always been a real challenge. It was also as dangerous as hell.

After a refresher on the ins and outs of rappelling technique, he'd instructed John and Virgil to descend down the cliff in tandem. He and Gordon were to follow on behind them. Before they'd set off, he'd made it extremely clear that urgency and a safe return to the starting point was the most important outcome of the training. Then, he'd gone on to reiterate his full expectation that at least two methods of backup knotting had to be used whenever they were out in the field during a rescue.

Things had been fine during the initial descent, if he disregarded the odd wisecrack from Gordon about being afraid of heights. John struggled, which was understandable given his lack of recent field experience, but with Virgil's help he settled down and soon got the hang of the anchors again.

The ascent had been fast and incident free. He'd been pleased with the time – "fifty four point seven five minutes" – their best effort yet.

It was only when the teams changed over and he'd put John and Gordon together that the problems had begun to emerge.

They'd been sharing a joke on the edge of the cliff face as he and Virgil took the lead and descended. There was no way in hell that they could have been fully concentrating on what they were doing when they followed on, and it could have ended up in disaster.

Halfway down the cliff-face, Gordon banged his funny bone on an outcrop and temporarily let go of the descender. Fortunately, John's back-up anchor allowed him to right himself in time and the exercise was completed. Neither of them had said a word to him at the time.

But he knew there was something up when he saw Virgil pull Gordon aside on their way back up to the house. He'd later found out that both Gordon and John had forgotten to check the backup knotting. They'd descended the second time relying purely on the anchors. He had been so damned pissed he could hardly believe it. An oversight like that, training or not, could have seen one, or both of them, killed.

His father's eyes had narrowed and mainly in surprise

"_That's not like your brothers. They know the drill."_

"_I know they do, Dad, and that's exactly my point."_

His aggravation had then turned into pacing.

Scott heaved his body out of bed, grabbed a towel to wrap around himself and stalked his way out onto the balcony. Fine lot of good any explanation did. Despite the potential consequences of failing to follow procedure, Father had ended up making the decision that it was better just to let things lie. There was no point taking it any further if no one had been injured, according to him, and he could well imagine that they'd been chewed out enough already without him starting on them, as well.

"_Now, how about we let it go at that and see what your grandmother is rustling up for supper?_" he'd said, benevolently ending the discussion. "_We've both had a long day and maybe after we relax a little; things can be put back into perspective._"

That had been the last thing Scott had expected to hear. Man, he almost blew. It almost sounded like Father was dismissing his concerns on the assumption that _he_ was the one who needed a little down time.

"_What's gotten into you tonight, Scott? I am not dismissing anything. You've made a valid enough point, and so have I. Everyone's capable of making a mistake, even you."_

Scott sighed as he looked out over the glimmering silver and black of the Pacific and contrast of the full moon overhead. He still wasn't sure if he'd made the right decision in walking away from a statement like that.

True to his word, his father didn't raise the issue when they all sat down for dinner. There was probably no need to; the nervous silence around the table pretty well said it all for him, and both Gordon and John had made a hasty retreat before what was left of their luck ran out.

Gordon later apologised and acknowledged that fooling around during the training exercise had been dangerous. He'd said he tended to be blasé about training for situations where Father always sidelined him. He'd learnt his lesson and could guarantee that all the bases would be covered in full from now on.

"_I'll hold you to that."_

"_Yeah, I know you will."_

"_I mean it, Gordon. One mistake and that's it in this game." _

John, on the other hand, hadn't believed it was a problem and was still shrugging the whole thing off.

"_Oh, come on Scott. Chill out why don't you? We just had a bad day, that's all." _

"_Chill out? If that had been the real deal out there today, Johnny, I'd be nailing your sorry ass to the wall right now."_

"_So, save it for the real deal and get the hell off my back!" _John didn't give back any less than what he got. Phrases like _"anal"_ and "_third world dictator_" really stung and so did the observation that "_someone must have really pissed in your cornflakes,"_ as he angrily stalked his way towards the door.

"_Interesting evening."_

As usual, Virgil's quiet observation over a late night cognac had said everything. Scott already knew he was on edge without Virgil reminding him. But just how did he explain to everyone that his intuition was overdrive at the moment and he was scared as hell that whatever was coming was about to go horribly wrong?

"_Humph."_

A preoccupied grunt and leaving Virgil alone on the balcony hadn't been one of his better attempts at explanation.

Then, when the image of Gordon's broken body had woken him so violently from the dream, it had taken him at least a couple of minutes to focus on where he was and to convince himself that the fall hadn't actually occurred. Gordon's wide lifeless eyes and the blood-splattered rocks seemed too real not to be some kind of premonition.

Scott inhaled deeply and forced himself to synchronise his breathing in time with the rhythm of the sea. The smell of the salt air and the gentle lapping of the waves were starting to make him feel better. It also strengthened his resolve. Intuition might be one thing, a bad dream might be another; there was only one way to finally put this one to bed.

They wouldn't like it; in fact he was sure they would try to argue with him but tomorrow afternoon he was going to call another training session and take his brothers back up to the Point. There would be no mistakes this time, no jokes…just textbook stuff. They'd complete the descent in less than forty five minutes. Only then would he be able to relax in the knowledge that their rappelling skills were top class and nothing could go wrong if they received an emergency call.

But then again, maybe not. There was still one more base another training drill wouldn't cover.

So when Alan came home from Thunderbird Five at the end of the week, they'd re-do the whole thing a third time to be sure.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note – Thanks again to those who took the time to review Chapter One both here on and by private email. The time-line towards disaster now moves forward one more day._

* * *

******* RECOVERY *******

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

_**December 28 2026**_

_**Wentworth Falls**_

_**Blue Mountains **_

_**Australia**_

Laura Townsend took a deep breath, inhaled the warm eucalyptus filled air and wished that she'd remembered to pack a pair of more sensible shoes. When her husband had announced that they were headed to Wentworth Falls for their two week vacation, she had visualised herself do nothing but whiling away the hours browsing in specialty shops and drinking gourmet coffee. No-one had actually explained that she was also expected to head out every day on a five mile bushwalk with the boys.

David and Jacob were already complaining about Wentworth Falls. It had been an interesting place for the first twenty four hours, but after that, their interest had quickly dwindled into boredom. Other than "resort activities", fishing or skimming rocks across the swan infested lake, bushwalking was only thing left for them to do. To make matters worse, every time the family attempted a bushwalk, they were faced with at least one distant glimpse of the dreaded KV towers their father had designed for the New South Wales government.

And whilst Damian Townsend had faithfully promised not to say another word about his role in their construction, he somehow couldn't help himself once the towers came into view.

Today, they were being faced with the real nitty gritty of how he'd designed them to be resilient in the unpredictable Australian weather. Damian's face was a study of animated excitement as he elaborated on all the finer details. Even Laura was starting to get annoyed.

"Mum, is it okay Dad misses the next bushwalk?" Jacob asked his mother, as their long suffering tour guide and the rest of the walking party continued their education on the intricacies of electrical tower design.

Laura looked down at her blistered feet and clay covered bright yellow sandals.

"It doesn't bother me if your father misses the bush walk," she replied. "I'd much rather prefer to be lying by the pool at the resort, myself." Then she lowered her voice looking at the awkwardly agitated group in front of her. "It would also give everyone in Wentworth Falls a well-deserved break from your father and his boring engineering lessons. "

"It's all about the manner of construction," Damian was explaining to his small but very captive audience. "The idea of encasing each individual tower in a weatherproof pylon was real forward thinking and one of the highlights of my involvement in the project. At sixty feet in diameter and two hundred and eighty five feet high, it was a pretty bold move into the world of zero maintenance. Of course, we had all the sceptics… you know… the ones worrying about what would happen if we needed to shut down the power in an emergency. But what could possibly go wrong, I asked them. It's not like they're going to bloody well fall down, now is it? We covered everything in the design phase even down to having the things painted green. Foliage green; can you believe it? That was all it took to get the Project through the heritage listing after four years of bloody arguing. I said to the Environment Minister – what more do you want me to do for you, mate? Put some fake tree branches on the side and stick a couple of koalas up there as well? Politicians…pain in the bloody proverbial at times."

No-one knew what to say when he stopped, expecting to hear their words of admiration. The silence became almost embarrassing as everyone looked at everyone else hoping someone would make some sort of comment. When nothing was forthcoming, the tour guide quickly stepped in and seized the opportunity to move the group forward on the walk.

"Err... now…as I was saying…if you all go past the shortcut sign at the bottom of this track you'll be able to get to Lyre Bird Look-out. The look-out will give you a great view of the Jamieson Valley, and if there isn't any haze, you should almost be able to see back towards the western suburbs of Sydney. It's a sheer drop though folks, so please don't climb the barrier fence if you want to take photographs. I'll see everyone back here in around forty five minutes."

Twelve tourists of varying nationalities filed away towards the lookout as quickly as possible, keen to make their escape.

"Well, how do you like that?" a disgruntled Damian shrugged, incredulous. "No appreciation from any of that lot for what it took to build the ninth wonder of the modern world."

"Dad, it _isn't_ the ninth wonder of the world," David protested.

"And you're boring everyone to death, Dad," Jacob complained.

"Yes, you are dear," Laura chipped in to agree.

"_I am not_," Damian frowned. "You guys can't tell me that what you see over there on that outcrop isn't a feat of modern engineering."

"Of course it is, "Laura said, trying to break the bad news. "But honey, you need to understand that the rest of Australia stopped being excited about it at least six months ago."

"Australia _continues _to be excited," he huffed at Laura, indignantly. "I've got six design awards on the wall in my office, and other two in the pipeline, to prove just how excited it still is."

"You also have twelve people running in the opposite direction so they don't have to keep listening to you," she pointed out, indicating the disappearing tourists. "Thirteen actually," she observed, indicating the poor defenceless tour guide who was doing his best to keep his distance by squatting down at the base of a gum tree on the other side of the bush track.

Damien reddened as she waited for a response.

"All right then, forget it," he reacted by sulking out loud. "It's no skin off my nose if people don't want to know anything about how vital resources are delivered in this country. And no more bushwalking, either. I'm sick of the boys complaining. We can all just hang around the resort until it's time for the four of us to go home to Sydney."

David frowned at Jacob as his father stomped off.

"Well boys, it looks like you got what you wanted," Laura sighed, watching him go. "I can't see your Dad wanting to come back out here, any time soon."

"Mum, you heard him in the car. He said that this week was supposed to be about us, not those towers."

"I know what he said, Jacob, and I'm very sure that once your Father cools off, he'll remember what he said in the car, too. He's just spent so much time perfecting those towers over the last six years, it's hard for him to find the place where his work stops and his family starts."

"But it's always the same excuse, Mum."

"That's because it's the only excuse there is. Now that's enough. It'll get a lot better; I promise."

Jacob looked at David. David looked at Jacob. How much longer did their mother realistically think she that was going to placate them with_ that_?

"I told that you we'd have had a better time if we'd gone up to Queensland," David muttered unhappily.

This vacation and Wentworth Falls really sucked.

* * *

_**Morning - December 29 2026**_

_**Tracy Island**_

Brains, as he was affectionately known at the Base, ripped off the latest seismic report that had just come in from Thunderbird Five and continued his way into the lab. He scoured the contents while gathering together a number of other reports that had earlier come in from the satellite. In less than five minutes Mr Tracy wanted him to sit down with Scott and discuss the potential dangers the activity held for the outer areas of western Sydney. Yet his mind was preoccupied with another urgent project – fast tracking the new high powered grabs that International Rescue needed. The expectation was driving him crazy.

"Oh, and by the way, Brains," Jeff Tracy had announced as matter-of-factly as if he was talking about the weather. "How fast do you think we can get those grabs from the drawing board into operation? I've been as nervous as hell after what happened during the Houseman rescue. What do you think? Ten to fifteen days at a stretch?"

Brains remembered reddening to the tips of his ears and before he knew it, the nervous stammering had started. He had no problem with the concept but those grabs still required a lot more work before they left the design phase and made their way into production. What more should he have said without looking like he was letting International Rescue down? Yesterday had definitely not been his day.

"Err... it's not going to be as err…quick as that, I'm afraid, Mr Tracy," he'd stumbled and with enough hesitation to see his employer frown at the potential of yet another setback.

"What's the problem Brains? I thought you said we were all good to go," had snapped back at him from across the desk.

"We…we are, Mr Tracy," he'd countered back, nervously. "It's just that…"

"It's just what?" Jeff had demanded. "Come on… out with it Brains…is there a base I've forgotten to cover with this one? More that you need me to do?"

Brains jammed the technical reports under his arm and flinched at the recollection before striding out of the lab like he was on a mission. After ending last night's conversation with a less than favourable, "Yes sir, you err… need to be a little more patient I'm afraid," he expected Mr Tracy was going to be in one foul mood, today.

"Good morning, Brains," came the cheery voice of Josephine Tracy as he exited the elevator from the laboratory. "Jeff's in his office taking a business call at the moment. Go on through. Would you like me to pour you some coffee while you're waiting?"

Brains smiled, signifying his appreciation of the offer. Jeff Tracy's mother had a real knack of anticipating exactly what was needed if she sensed one of them was a little testy. He wondered for a moment if she'd picked up on his stress level. By now, it was usually Kyrano who was organising the coffee.

Keen to reassure himself, he looked at her and said "Err…no thanks, Mrs Tracy."

"You sure?" she queried, wrinkling at little at the brow. "From what I heard last night, it could be a rather long morning in there."

"I'll be err… fine," he replied tightly. "Thanks anyway, Mrs Tracy."

"All right, suit yourself. You know where the kitchen is, then."

Brains acknowledged the comment with a polite but brisk nod and continued on into the small private office where Jeff Tracy was finishing a business call. Jeff looked up and motioned Brains to sit down in a nearby chair as he wound up the conversation.

"Yes, I understand," he said briskly. "Yes I will…thanks."

The call ended with him saying a curt goodbye and turning off the communications link. He then reached forward and took a sip of his own coffee, before giving his undivided attention to Brains.

"Before we start, did you manage to pull any information on the last earthquake over there?" he asked. "It was well over thirty five years ago. 1990, I think."

Brains was caught completely off guard. How typical of Mr Tracy to want information on something as obscure as that. Completely from left field and totally unexpected. It was hard not look surprised.

"Err… 1990, sir?" he stammered, a little confused. "I…well…err... no…"

"Humph, doesn't matter." Jeff shrugged back. "Just thought it might be useful in this case. I guess Alan can pull the data up if we need it. I should get him on the line now. I told him to expect the call. "

"Sorry I'm late, Dad..."

"You're not late. You're just in time."

Brains twisted in his chair to look behind him as Jeff's eldest son strode through the door still dressed in his navy blue training gear and halfway through downing a bottle of water.

"Brains…" Scott acknowledged, before perching himself on the end of his father's desk. He then entered the conversation as if he'd been present from the beginning.

"OK, so what exactly have we got?"

Jeff Tracy indicated the sheer black laser screen in front of him as the photograph of his late wife peeled away, paving the way for a discreet and uninterrupted communication with the satellite.

"I'll show you in a minute. I'm just getting Alan on the line now. This is Jeff Tracy to Thunderbird Five. Come in Alan."

Within seconds, a uniformed Alan Tracy appeared right in the centre of the screen.

"This is Thunderbird Five. Hey Dad…oh...hi you guys. What gives? I sure wasn't expecting a welcoming committee."

Alan didn't really expect to receive an explanation from anyone and neither was he about to get one. Jeff was clearly not in the mood for pleasantries. He got straight down to the latest International Rescue business.

"Son," he began, "this morning I asked Brains to look over those activity reports you've been sending in from the east coast of Australia. It looks like there could be some serious trouble brewing. I want us to be ready in the event that there is."

Alan nodded and Brains saw him glance downwards as he consulted Thunderbird Five's computer system searching for any updates. "Yes sir, the seismic activity along the Great Dividing Range has certainly continued to increase over the last forty eight hours."

"That range runs all the way down the east coast of Australia. Are we getting any indication of anywhere specific?" Like his father, Scott wasted no time in getting straight to the point.

"The activity err...varies, Scott." Brains interrupted, rifling through the myriad of pages. "Grafton seems to be the most active point in the north and it, err… intermittently extends all the way down to a point… err…just west of Sydney."

Scott folded his arms. "That's a big chunk of range for us to keep an eye on, Brains."

"Six hundred and err…eighty nine miles to be exact ...err...Scott"

"Crap," Scott muttered worriedly into his chest.

"What bothers me is what's located in the centre of the area with the most activity." Jeff Tracy was now adding to the discussion.

Brains consulted his reports again and vocalised the obvious.

"That would be… err… Newcastle, Mr Tracy."

"Exactly, Brains. The same place the last earthquake hit; the one in 1990."

A tap on the door saw the conversation placed on hold as Josephine Tracy entered with a steaming mug of coffee and placed it into Scott's outstretched hand.

"Hey thanks, Grandma. You're the best."

She smiled. "You're welcome, honey. I noticed that you had no time for breakfast. Anything I can get for you, Jeff? A sandwich? More coffee, perhaps? "

"No thanks mother, I'm all good for now."

"How about you, Brains? Changed your mind yet?"

"Err… still nothing for me thanks, Mrs Tracy."

"All right, enjoy your meeting then." She then left the room as quickly and as quietly as she had come.

Jeff leaned back in the huge leather chair and resumed the discussion exactly where he had left off.

"Alan, pull Brains a history of recorded seismic activity pre the 1990 Newcastle earthquake, will you?"

"I already have, Dad. It was December 1989 actually," Alan corrected his father as he scanned the records he'd accessed a little earlier. "The quality of information doesn't look like it was too crash hot back then. I'm not so sure it's going to tell Brains all that much."

"Perhaps not, Alan, but anything's a guide. Put up what you've got there and let Brains take a look at it."

"FAB, stand by."

Almost immediately, Alan disappeared from view and was replaced by a blur of seismic images.

Brains divided his attention between the screen in front of him and the jumbled pages that he had piled up on his lap. Technology and seismic monitoring had sure left a lot to be desired back then. He squinted behind his glasses and looked at the images sideways as tried his best to establish some sort of pattern.

"I'm afraid it's going to be a fairly inconclusive comparison, Mr Tracy," he finally admitted. "There's not enough data here on which to base any sort of…err… opinion. By the looks of things we may just have to err…wait it out and, err...see."

Jeff grunted, clearly unhappy with the alternative he was being given.

"That's exactly what I was afraid of. I don't like the uncertainty of this one at all."

"Surely the authorities are monitoring the obvious increase in activity." Scott's voice held a distinctive agitated edge. "If they're expecting trouble, shouldn't they have issued some kind of warning by now?"

Alan spoke up. "Not necessarily. I've been listening to all their inter-office communications. No-one seems to be too concerned about anything at this time of year. I figure most of the big guys must be still on Christmas vacation. With New Year around the corner, work seems to be the last thing anyone has on their mind."

"Humph, that figures. So what are _we_ supposed we do?" Scott grumbled, unimpressed.

"I don't think there's anything that we _can_ do, Scott."

Scott frowned at Alan's shrugged and helpless response to his sarcasm.

"Yes, there is. We'll handle this by being on the safe side from the start," Jeff Tracy was moving into commander mode. "It's highly likely we'll be needed in the event of an earthquake, so Scott, you and your brothers need to make sure all the appropriate rescue equipment is prepped now and ready to go. Have Virgil prioritise the pod so it can be picked up quickly. I don't want us to lose any time if the Authorities require our services."

"Sure Dad, I'll get on it right away," Scott acknowledged him.

"Alan…"

"Yes, sir?"

"…keep Brains posted on any new activity and keep searching for more information on that earlier earthquake, will you?"

"OK, Dad; will do."

"Brains…"

"…err, yes, Mr Tracy?"

"I wanted to talk over the plans for those high powered grabs again with you this morning."

Brains braced himself. Of course he did. The man's mind never slowed down long enough for any of them to take a breath.

But he needn't have worried. The conversation was going no further. Jeff Tracy was dismissing them both.

"…however between this one coming and company business, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take a raincheck. Now if you will both excuse me, it's almost ten thirty and I'm expecting another call."

Brains gathered his papers and waited for Scott to leave the room first before following him out the door. Scott's stride had a definite urgency and purpose as he headed to find his three brothers to complete the allocated task.

"If you figure out anything else from those reports of yours Brains, make sure I'm the first to know," he ordered, without looking back.

It was said with enough authority for Brains to stop mid-stride in the hallway for a double take.

Scott might say he was nothing like his father but there was no denying that he acted more and more like him with every day that passed.


	4. Chapter 4

******* RECOVERY *******

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

_**Evening - **__**December 29, 2026**_

_**Tracy Island **_

Scott focussed on the pool table and concentrated hard on lining up the white ball with the red.

Little red ball right in the old hip pocket... a satisfying climax to what he and Virgil had earlier joked was nothing more than an exercise in futility on the part of their opponents. Their combined skill had always been more than enough to separate the "experts" from the "kids".

It had been a timely decision to challenge Gordon and John to the best of three games before they all sat down to one of their grandmother's famous "monthly rotation suppers." Not sixty seconds later, their father had announced over the intercom that it was time for the annual service to be carried out on the Tracy Island sewerage treatment plant and that he was looking for two "volunteers".

All thoughts of mashed potatoes, fried chicken and double helpings of pie were immediately put on hold.

"_Lose two out of three and you guys pull the duty. What do you say? Are the two of you still game?"_

_"Oh yeah, right, and here it comes. Our ever resourceful _field commander_ thinks he's gonna roll the shit downhill, like always."_

_"Now Gordo..._little brother…_ I swear at times you truly wound me. And to think that Virg and I were gonna play nice and let you guys wear your boots this time."_

_"Is that right? Well "sir", don't forget that you have to beat __both __of us to have any chance of keeping your own boots on. And we might not be quite so generous when you lose. Isn't that right Johnny-boy?"_

"_That's right."_

At one game apiece, this was one important shot.

"Don't let those nerves get the better of you again, Scotty."

" Gordie, you are so full of crap. Nerves had nothing to do with the last shot."

"What? Are you saying that he might actually sink his own ball this time?"

"You never know, do you? You never know."

"Man, I'm shaking in my shoes."

Scott ignored the good natured heckling from Gordon and John, took final aim and let the shot explode in a blast of colourful movement. The red sped across the table towards the target before narrowly missing it; the resultant ricochet sinking the closest ball which, once again, happened to belong to his grinning brotherly opposition.

"Shit!" he swore as the green and white disappeared, followed closely by the black and then the white.

"And lots of it too, the way I figure," John gloated. "Now dear Scott, about those boots..."

"You know what Blondie? The sooner I get your ass back up in Five tomorrow, the happier this guy's gonna be."

Scott handed Virgil the pool cue in disgust making a point of avoiding any eye contact with him. He'd noticed Virgil watching him earlier with that distinctive quizzical frown of his and knew that even if no-one else had figured out why he wasn't on top of his game tonight, his closest brother certainly wasn't fooled. He then flopped down into the armchair in the corner of the games room, and swallowed what was left of his coffee. The bittersweet taste forced out a second expletive. "Shit!"

Even that was cold.

His eyes scanned the room and then beyond the glass doors which opened out towards the darkening Pacific. He sure wished that he had glass of something strong in his hand right now. A good single malt would really hit the spot. It had been a long day for all of them and it was going to take a heck of a lot more than this exchange of crap to take his mind off things and allow him to unwind. Checking all the equipment required for ground rescue had been an endless, painstaking task, and with hourly reports from Thunderbird Five adding to the underlying tension in the hangar, he'd driven his brothers harder than he normally would.

International Rescue was now on high alert with Australia's Great Dividing Range set to rumble, and until it made up its mind exactly where and when, the worrying conversation he'd had earlier that morning with his father, Alan and Brains continued to play over and over in his mind. Father expected them to be ready to fly out the minute they were asked to become involved. If it had meant pushing his brothers to the max so they were up to the task, then he'd pushed them.

It didn't make him feel any less on edge.

"To be honest, I'm surprised Dad's still allowing the rotation to happen," Gordon commented as he moved into position for his next shot. "I thought he'd delay the whole thing for sure until things settled down in Australia."

"But you heard Brains. It might be hours. It could be days," John reminded him.

"He also said that there's a chance it might not happen at all," Scott pointed out, squirming to make himself more comfortable in the chair.

With that, Gordon looked over at Scott, winked at John and grinned.

"And delaying the rotation would have been such a _terrible_ shame. I'll bet our Tin-Tin's pretty happy that the old man decided to give her a break."

Scott threw a distracted frown in Gordon's direction. "_Tin-Tin_? What the heck has _she _got to do with anything?

Gordon rolled his eyes.

"Gee, you really _are_ off your game if you have to ask a question like that. Scott, let's just say that if Dad had decided to delay the rotation until something breaks, she'd have gone and changed a certain someone's sheets for nothing!"

Even Scott found himself surrendering a momentary smile as the two younger ones finally relaxed and laughed together for the first time since he'd chewed them out over their lack of attention to the rappelling drill. Alan and Tin-Tin's "behind the door" love affair still continued to be the latest family joke. Everyone was in on it, including Kyrano, although admittedly at first he didn't seem to be all that impressed with what he knew was going on. Both Alan and Tin-Tin were completely convinced that nobody knew anything about it and the more they tried to hide their involvement; the more obvious the whole thing was. Alan's return from space after a month away from island was prize entertainment in the Tracy villa and the highlight of every second rotation. It was also the perfect excuse for some light hearted betting between his brothers, and this month, John was determined to win his share.

"Don't forget I've got twenty bucks riding on _*I'm just heading down to the laboratory for a while to see if Tin-Tin needs any help,*_ "he chuckled.

Gordon looked up from the table again and gave him a firm 'tut tut.'

"I've told you already. You're wasting your money. It's going to be _*Dad; Tin-Tin and I are going outside to soak up a little sun.*"_

John disagreed before he shrugged his shoulders and added, "Well, whatever he comes up with, it can't be any worse than the lame one he tried to pull last month."

"Yeah. *_Gee Grandma, I don't think I'm feeling too good. I think I'll go upstairs and lie down,_*" Gordon mimicked.

"I still can't believe that kid was dumb enough to think that Grandma wouldn't go upstairs and check on him."

"I can sure believe it and what's more, Grandma's still recovering from what she nearly walked in on up there, too!"

With that, John and Gordon burst into fits of laughter.

"All right, how about you two comedians just leave Alan and the rotation alone," Virgil interrupted firmly, after a swift glance in Scott's direction. Despite the promise of the earlier smile, Scott was frowning and looking back out towards the Pacific again. Virgil sensed the situation in Australia was weighing heavily on his mind. It didn't help that Scott had already flagged with Father that the rotation had the potential to reduce International Rescue's capability and that Father had made the decision it would go ahead, despite his concerns. It was a strange decision, considering Father was the one who had placed the whole outfit on standby.

"_He said he has his reasons,"_ Scott had grumbled earlier on, in the hangar. _"What they are, Virgil is anyone's guess." _

Gordon heeded the warning and returned his attention to the pool table. It was time to wrap this little contest up. In a series of impressive shots, he sank the purple and white, followed by the red and white and then the yellow and white, before ceremoniously handing the pool cue to John with an invitation to "finish the two suckers off."

"I still don't get why they haven't issued some sort of warning by now," Scott was thinking out loud, his mind no longer on the game.

"I guess it's because the authorities still aren't all that worried about it." Virgil offered.

"No, but I am. Brains said over five million people live along that stretch."

"And worrying doesn't suit you, Scott." John's interruption was blunt as he walked around to the other side of the pool table. "The way I see it, an impending earthquake in Australia is no different to any other threat Alan's monitoring in the universe at the moment. If that range rumbles, it rumbles. There's nothing we can do to stop it. And besides..." He paused for effect so he was sure he had their full attention. " ... I think you two are going to have more than enough shit to deal with around here without worrying about what the hell's going on in Australia."

Scott's eyes narrowed. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

John smirked. "This is _exactly _what it means."

With that, he chalked the cue, lined up the shot and expertly sank the final ball.

* * *

_**11pm - December 29, 2026**_

_**Tracy Island**_

Scott hit the switch and the door to his suite hissed open. He then turned and went back to what he was doing before he heard the knock; pacing up and down, watching the clock tick away the hours courtesy of the December full moon. It was up to Virgil if he wanted to come in and try to have this conversation. Scott certainly wasn't about to encourage it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Virgil hesitate. Even as the door slid closed behind him and he crossed the room, Scott could tell that his brother didn't look like he was feeling all that comfortable with what he had come to say.

"You can sit down if you want," he offered gruffly, indicating the glossy leather sofa to the left of the unmade bed. Despite the sofa being cluttered with odd socks, a crumpled uniform and paperwork in various stages of completion, Virgil accepted the invitation.

"I think I will."

The acceptance alone was enough to warn Scott that this wasn't going to be one of their usual "late night discussions." This one was serious. Normally when Virgil had something to say at this time of night he indicated the balcony and suggested that the two of them stand.

Scott watched as Virgil moved the uniform to one side, shot a glance at the paperwork and then made a point of rifling through the pile of unmatched socks.

"Some of those are mine," he said when he finally sat down.

"Feel free."

"Don't worry, I was going to."

Scott waited for a moment but his brother didn't offer anything more.

He resumed his pacing. Damn it, he was going to make Virgil go first. He was no mood for a deep and meaningful and definitely in no mood to answer questions. He was annoyed Virgil didn't seem to be picking up the vibes. Then again, Virgil never shied away from a risk.

"So Scott, what gives?"

Straight to the point. The warm smooth voice had a distinctive edge to it. He wanted to know what was going on.

"What makes you think that there's something's bothering me?"

"I never said there was. I only asked what gives."

"Right."

Scott started pacing again.

He felt Virgil's eyes follow him, the sound of the clock and the lapping of the waves only amplifying the silence between them.

Damn it, Virgil.

Damn it.

He meant it.

Virgil needed to leave this one alone.

"So, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing you don't already know."

"Humour me. Tell me what I already know." If there was ever anyone who could twist words in an attempt to manipulate the conversation, it was Virgil..

"You already know that I'm worried about the situation in Australia," somehow ground its way out. "You also know that I don't get why Dad isn't delaying the rotation."

Not that he expected Virgil to buy his evasiveness, of course. They knew each other far too well. The subtle but firm admonishment took a few minutes to come, but when it did, Scott wasn't surprised.

"Come on, Scott. You've got to give me a bit more credit than that. I'm not the only one around here who's noticed you've been wound up tighter than the proverbial spring for the last three days."

Virgil was making it clear that he wasn't about to let him off. In his steady, calm and relentless way, he was going to prod and push all his buttons until Scott eventually caved in and spilled. Scott wasn't prepared to allow him to do that. Not with an order to fly to Australia due at any time.

"You don't need to worry about me Virgil," he said, ignoring the observation. "I'll be fine once I manage to grab a few hours of decent sleep."

"And you not sleeping properly has nothing to do with us being on standby _or_ tomorrow's rotation."

Scott faced him, automatically folding his arms across his chest. He knew it made him look defensive but right now he couldn't help it. How in the hell did Virgil know that? True, they always joked around that they were the two who were telepathic; the ones who were always on the exact same wavelength; the two who could read each other like a book. It made for light-hearted conversation over dinner and was a good fall back when Father demanded an explanation for some of Scott's more risky decisions. But this was different. Scott hadn't said a word to anyone about those dreams.

His eyes met Virgil's for the first time since he'd walked in. "Since when did I tell you that I've had trouble sleeping?"

Virgil folded his own arms and leaned back into the soft leather to eye him in return.

"I believe you just did."

Damn Virgil. Scott didn't know how he always managed to do it to him, and he'd done it again which was annoying as all hell. Scott didn't want to talk about the uneasy feeling, the images and the dreams or admit that they were the reasons behind nearly a week of broken sleep. It was easier to try and change the subject to something more familiar; neutral.

"What's your take on why Dad's so hell bent on getting John back up in Five tomorrow?"

This time, the look he got from the sofa told him that he had to be kidding. Virgil had come here for answers, not more questions, and his expression indicated that he wasn't impressed and he wouldn't be leaving until he got them.

"The only thing I can think of is that he wants Johnny in the driver's seat when this thing hits," Scott floundered, after receiving no response. "I guess it makes sense, John's the better communicator of the two, but what I want to know is what happens if two of us are somewhere between the base and Five when the call for assistance comes in? I asked Dad if it was worthwhile reconsidering the whole rotation but you know what he's like when he's made up his mind and wants something done. He ordered the blast off for 0800 tomorrow and that was that."

When Virgil still failed to comment his resolve finally cracked. "For God's sake, Virgil, don't just sit there looking at me. Say something."

Virgil shrugged at him. "Fine, tell me why you're having trouble sleeping."

It was the last thing Scott had expected him to say. It was like being trapped in a corner with no way out. The only thing he could do was assume the role of the Field Commander and tell Virgil that this wasn't the time or the place. When that call came in he would be relying on Virgil to follow his orders, not doubt them. His response had an edge to it but still non-committal.

"You know what the job's like."

"How about you just cut the crap?" Three years younger, no military training and a temper he shared in common with their father when he was pushed, Virgil had had enough. "Tell me what the hell's going on, Scott."

The moonlight illuminated the whole suite now. Scott glanced at him, uncomfortable, now resigned to the fact that he had to fess up. The bed creaked under his weight as he forced himself to sit down directly opposite the sofa. After a long, contemplative silence he looked directly at Virgil and tried his best not to sound like he was losing the plot.

"Do you remember what happened in Makka?" he asked, quietly.

Virgil became guarded. "Yeah, yeah I do."

Makka was something that neither of them talked about. It had been International Rescue's first failure to get everyone who was in danger, out alive. Eight months before, the famous Abraj Al Bait Complex in Saudi Arabia had been commemorating the addition of another twenty storeys to its original seventy six floor hotel. The engineering world, including Brains, had been lavish with its praises. No expense had been spared in its super-efficient construction. Yet, somehow a simple fireworks display intended to showcase the impressive extension had backfired on ignition, causing an explosion that had threatened the structural integrity of the whole building. All one hundred and thirty six elevators came to a stop, the automatic fire escapes failed to open and by the time they'd received the call from Five and made it to Saudi Arabia, there was an atmosphere of mass panic amongst the four hundred and eighty five hotel guests.

"Virgil, this is something I've never told anyone; something that happened for a whole week leading up to that call. That woman carrying the newborn; the..."

"The one who jumped from the balcony on the twenty second floor," Virgil finished the sentence for him when he saw Scott wince.

"Yeah."

Virgil had been too busy airlifting people to safety from the upper floors of the building to pay attention to the unfortunate incident. According to Scott, some of the previously evacuated floors had suddenly collapsed without warning, causing the young woman to panic and jump to her death with the child in her arms. Despite the fact that they'd saved over four hundred lives that day they'd returned to Base feeling pretty darn hollow. They knew that the loss of a human life always impacted on someone. To lose two was tough, even though their father had stressed throughout the lengthy debrief that it wasn't always going to be possible for International Rescue to save everyone.

"I knew she was going to jump the moment I saw her standing on the balcony with the kid." Scott's voice was now barely a whisper "Six days before, I'd started to feel uneasy about something when I was working in the hangar with Brains. I can't explain the feeling. It was like you just know that something is about to go wrong. Then I started having dreams; vivid dreams, horrible dreams. Dreams that always ended with a woman and a child splattered on the sidewalk and me waking up convinced the whole damn thing had actually happened. It stopped after Makka but..."

He looked out to sea, then the clock and back at Virgil.

"... it all started again earlier on this week."

Virgil's brow furrowed. "What? The feeling?"

"Yeah and three days ago the dreams started happening again too. Virg, this time it's Gordon." He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes as if trying to blot the image out. "It's always a fall. Always a cliff face. I swear I woke up last night feeling physically sick. "

"Geez," Virgil eventually breathed, now sounding almost as worried as he did. "No wonder you bawled him out after what happened out at the Point."

"I know and this situation in Australia has put me even more on edge. What do I do if he's needed in Australia, Virg? I can't very well ask Dad to ground him especially when Gordon's assured me that what happened yesterday will never happen again."

"I don't know."

This time the silence they shared was contemplative. Gordon's integration into the team had been a long road after the hydrofoil accident and they both knew that being included in the land rescues meant a lot to him. Gordon had worked way above his pain threshold to be given more chances other than in his "baby" Thunderbird Four. He wouldn't be happy if he was stood down without a legitimate reason.

"Maybe Dad's put more thought into this rotation than what you think." Virgil was careful not to sound like he might have figured it all out. "Maybe by pushing the changeover he's not just putting his best Communicator back in Five, he's bringing the one with the best head for heights back down. "

"Yeah, maybe."

Despite sounding doubtful, Scott couldn't deny that Virgil's speculation had allowed a small sense of relief to wash over him. His assessment of the situation made perfect sense and it certainly explained Father's earlier display of mule-headed intensity. It also meant that if they got the call, Father would instruct Alan to go first and Gordon would only be needed if they required additional back-up. Father had already acknowledged that rappelling was one of Alan's better skills.

It might be enough to allow him to get some sleep tonight, but he had to wonder how much longer this was going to go on.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note – Writing the words has never been a problem. Telling the best story I can and to my satisfaction is the thing that is really hard... mcj_

* * *

******* RECOVERY *******

**CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

_**Morning, December 30, 2026**_

_**Wentworth Falls **_

_**Blue Mountains**_

_**Australia**_

Wentworth Falls Lake reminded David of one of those giant inland dams. The ones that stretched so far into the horizon you didn't know where the sky started and the water stopped. He guessed it was impressive. He just couldn't get excited about it. No matter how many times his parents raved on that the view from here was fantastic, he'd never understand what was so fantastic about an endless sea of water surrounded by long grass and gnarly looking gum trees.

It was shaping up to be a hot, steamy day in the Blue Mountains of Australia and the humidity had already forced his mother to ramp up the air conditioning to the max. Eight-thirty in the morning and it was almost thirty-nine degrees. It was going to be hell on earth on that bushwalk up to Rocket Point Lookout if the temperature kept climbing at this rate. David was feeling exhausted at the thought.

In fact, he'd almost managed to convince himself that a day chilling beside the pool would be a far less painful option. He'd even turned to run his idea past Jacob. That was until their father walked out of the bathroom with a towel slung over his shoulder, thick white sunscreen caked all over his nose and wearing a hideous-looking broad-brimmed hat in his least favourite colour, orange. He turned back to the window. Nope, it was the bushwalk.

God, his father was a nerd.

"Hey, you guys, so what's the plan?" Damien Townsend was full of enthusiasm even after his affectionate attempt to flick the beach towel between David's bare legs met with the usual sigh and eye rolling. "I reckon it's gonna be scorcher out there today. Sure you won't change your minds about the Lookout and come with us for a dip?"

David glanced over his shoulder at Jacob, who pretended to be immersed in one of his goofy jazz music magazines. It was obvious he had no intention of responding. He guessed it was up to him.

"Err... no thanks, Dad," he said, filling in the awkward silence. "I think we're both kind of looking forward to the walk."

Damien looked disappointed. "Okay, if you say so, but it's the last thing I'd be doing in this heat."

After weighing things up the night before, Damien and Laura had finally agreed that their fifteen-year-old twins could walk the scenic track out to Rocket Point Lookout, alone. Walking without a group came with a number of stringent conditions. Number one, they had to stay together. Number two, they had to behave. _"That means none of your usual wise guy stuff,"_ Damien had warned. _"No messing with signs, climbing gum trees or taking out the wild life with those air rifles."_ Three, they had to stick to the track. _"No short cuts or checking out dead ends or caves."_ Four, when they got to the Lookout, they were expected to turn around and come straight back to the resort. The fourth condition had been imposed by Laura and it came with a five o'clock curfew. _"We're driving into Katoomba to have dinner at the new art gallery. I've booked a table for seven o'clock sharp. And before you start, don't even try to complain about it, David, because that's what we're all going to do." _

Rocket Point Lookout was only an hour from the resort but the hike was taxing, as the dusty track zigzagged through a series of natural sandstone arches, gullies and rock faces surrounded by the dense Australian bush. Yesterday's guide had recommended they allow themselves two hours to walk the distance each way. Most people took at least two and a half in the heat, he'd said. Some had been known to take up to three.

"Boys, you make sure that you drink lots of water. They're predicting it's going to hit forty-five by one." It was Laura, as she meandered out of the bedroom to join the rest of them in the lounge. "You also need to keep piling on the sunscreen and the Aerogard I left for you over there on the bench. I can't believe how vicious the horseflies are around here. The last thing I want you to come home with are more of those bites. "

David looked down at his arms and legs, knowing exactly what she meant. He was still nursing a couple of painful lumps from yesterday's excursion courtesy of the aggressive, blood sucking insects.

"Sure, Mum," he replied, pretending to pay attention to the ever increasing checklist. "The water, the sunscreen, the Aerogard..."

"And no wise guy stuff," Damien repeated. "I mean it, you guys. Getting lost in the bush is not just dangerous, it's bloody dangerous, so make sure that you stay on the track."

It was with a sigh of relief that the Townsend twins watched the glass door open and close as their parents headed off for a leisurely breakfast at the boutique café situated on the other side of the resort. David could only imagine the looks his father was going to get wearing that hat. Thank goodness he and Jacob would be spared the humiliation. After breakfast their parents intended to spend time cooling off in the pool, making the most of the lazy summer day until they all left to have dinner together in Katoomba. However, David and Jacob had quite a number of other things planned and only one of them involved trekking the well-signposted track on the popular tourist walk out to Rocket Point Lookout.

As he looked away from the lake and towards the shimmering haze of the Blue Mountains, David recalled the guarded conversation he'd had with his brother the night before. They'd both been so full of bravado, lying sleepless and egging each other on, but now that it came down to actually doing it, David was starting to doubt if either of them would have the guts. If their father found out he'd absolutely kill them, or worse, threaten to bring them back here again next year as a new and bizarre form of punishment. That put a whole new perspective on the risk-taking. Another "vacation" in Wentworth Falls, at least to David, would truly be a fate worse than death.

"I dunno about this, Dave. Do you think we should still do it?" With the departure of their parents, Jacob had closed his magazine and was now looking over at him from the couch, worried.

David frowned at him. Despite the potential consequences and his own feelings of self-doubt, he found it hard to believe that Jacob was the one who was thinking about chickening out first.

"Of course we should still do it," he quipped back as though it was a given. "It was your idea in the first place."

Jacob hesitated, looking even more apprehensive, "Yeah, I know it was but you heard Dad just now. He's not going to be too happy if he finds out we headed off the track."

"We won't be off the track. At least we won't be for long. It'll only take us half an hour to do it; forty-five minutes at the max."

"It's not just that." Jacob bit down on his lip and started scratching at his forehead, a nervous habit that only started when he was worried about doing the wrong thing. "What if someone sees us? It's not like everyone around here doesn't already know that he's our dad."

"So what if they see us? If Dad finds out what's the worst thing he can do? Huh?" The rebel in David blended with a fresh wave of bravado, making him, not Jacob, sound like the one who had masterminded the plan.

"I dunno, Dave..." Jacob still didn't sound too sure.

"Jake, last night you said that we were going to do it. Why do you want to back out now?"

They stared at each other, silent, as the air conditioner whirred louder, the condenser already struggling to cope with the brutality of the increasing summer heat. This was only intended to be an innocent prank...a way to express how they felt about things, a chance to make the point to their father. Nobody was going to get hurt as a result of it and it would even be kind of funny if they managed to pull it off...sitting back innocently, watching the chaos and seeing how everybody coped.

It was David who ended the stand-off first, swinging away from the window to head down the hallway, re-emerging five minutes later with his sneakers and baseball cap and with a backpack dangling off one shoulder.

"Are you coming or not?" he demanded, shoving the water, Aerogard and sunscreen into the backpack. "If you are you've got five minutes, Jake. I've got better things to do than sit around here all day worrying about what Dad is or isn't going to think."

"But Dave…"

"Four and a half minutes, Jake."

Jacob watched his brother lace up his sneakers before sighing and hauling himself off the couch. David was right. Last night he _had _agreed to do it. He was more worried about waking up this morning with that grinding feeling in the pit of his stomach and it scared him. Every time he had it, it meant there was going to be trouble. He had always been the psychic twin, the one who could sense when there was danger, and whilst it wasn't making him feel physically sick _yet_, something was already warning him that they needed to stay away.

"I'll go," he said with real reluctance, "but I really don't think that this is such a good idea."

* * *

_**Evening, December 30, 2026**_

_**Tracy Island**_

"Oh…man… how good does _that _feel?" Alan Tracy groaned into the red satin pillowcase as Tin-Tin settled back down beside him on the edge of her rumpled bed.

"Shhh… Alan. You really have to stop moaning like that," she warned. "Or at least try not to do it so loudly. I hate to imagine what my father thinks is going on."

She made a point of hushing him a second time before snapping the lid of the bottle of exotic massage oil firmly closed. The smell of patchouli tinged with coconut lingered between them, fragrant as the breeze wafted the scent through the warm summer night air.

What Alan wanted to say was that whatever Kyrano was thinking, it was right on the money at least as far as he was concerned. After a month in space, just one touch of her hands on his bare back and shoulders had been enough to send him into sensory overload.

"There's an area down here that's still a little tight."

Her hands slid to his lower back.

"Tin-Tin, you know you should never tease me like this."

"Who's teasing? I'm serious."

"_Ow!_ "

"Alan, I really wasn't joking when I said your back was tight."

Alan closed his eyes and allowed her to continue to expertly knead and manipulate all of the offending muscles. He was sure that she didn't have any idea what something like this was doing to him, or if she did, she was certainly able to ignore it a whole lot better than what he could at the moment.

"You didn't answer my question," he eventually said, trying to ignore the fact that her thumbs were now grinding away right into the centre of his butt.

"You didn't answer mine, either."

"Yes I did. I told you before it's the combination of standing around in Thunderbird Five for hours waiting for updates and this afternoon's surprise little rappelling drill."

"That's certainly one of your more original excuses."

"_Excuses? _What else is there that could have given me such a sore back?"

"And you ask me why I refuse to answer some of your questions."

"Huh?"

"Alan, just never mind."

Her hands had now moved on to massaging the length of his whole body, a teasing amalgamation of direct pressure and sensual caress that was nearly driving him crazy.

"Well?" he groaned, still managing to focus on something other than what he wanted to do to her.

"Well, what?"

"Geez…oh come on, Tin-Tin…"

He rolled over onto his back and gave her his best look of frustration. He hated it when she did this to him.

"How much plainer can I make this? I'd like us to spend some time away from the island, together. You and me, together, alone," he spelt out. "It's been eight months now since that night we first...and I just want to …well …what I mean is… I'd really like to…"

She smirked as he struggled to find the right words.

"It sounds very intriguing, but I'm not so sure what your father is going to say about that. The way he's talking, it could be at least another week before this earthquake thing in Australia blows over."

Now his brow furrowed deeper with real irritation. He was right that she have any idea of where he wanted to go with this relationship. It was getting as embarrassing as all hell trying to tell her. His invitation to the mainland had nothing to do with their physical relationship. Well sure, he guessed it was going to be part of it; like her he was tired of closed doors and the lack of privacy that came from everyone living and working so closely together on the island. But it wasn't the main reason he'd asked her to go. Over the last few months he'd grown up a lot and he had finally made up his mind about Tin-Tin Kyrano. He wanted to experience more with her than just their stolen moments of intimacy and he wanted ... no he _needed _to know if she did too. He didn't appreciate being reminded that he was currently on standby. It wasn't as if he didn't know what it meant.

"Tin-Tin, you never take me seriously," he grumbled. "All I want is the chance to have you to myself for a couple of days. Do different things and have some fun. I don't think that's too much to ask. The two of us are so involved with the outfit all the time and you can't tell me this arrangement..." he lowered his voice and pointed to the locked door, "...gives us enough privacy to get to know each other the way that I'd really like. I need to get away from here and do more with you than just…well…"

He sighed at the difficulty he was still having expressing himself. "Oh, you know what I mean," he trailed off unhappily.

Tin-Tin stopped teasing him and eased herself down to study his red and discontented features. She knew what had started as a casual thing between them eight months ago was now way past the point of just an occasional expression of their physical chemistry. Leaning into him, she tried to make amends by brushing his lips with her own.

"Oh Alan, don't pout. Of course we can spend a few days together. There are so many beautiful places we can go at this time of year. You know that I'd really like that."

"You're only saying that now because you think that I'm sulking."

She smiled and shook her head at him.

"You _are _sulking, Alan. It still doesn't stop me wanting to take the time off."

"Yeah, well..."

Still a little disgruntled, he pulled her closer to him and returned the kiss, only pausing when it started to intensify between them and he was encouraged to slip his fingers inside the shiny thin silk of her nightdress.

"It would mean no International Rescue," he warned, preoccupied.

She closed her eyes to the sensation. "It would mean no closed doors and fathers, too."

"And no brothers," he murmured. "Definitely no brothers."

"No brothers," she agreed.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note – A recent writing discussion about the use of OCs (original characters) in TB stories prompts me to write this clarification. The OCs contained in this and previously posted chapters are not intended to take over the story. They are, however, vital to the plot. They become less central as the story progresses. Please take this factor into account when reading the story and if you should choose to review. Thank you... mcj _

* * *

******* RECOVERY *******

**CHAPTER FIVE**

* * *

_**09.00am**_

_**3 January 2027**_

_**Katoomba Police Station **_

_**Blue Mountains**_

_**Australia**_

Detective Senior Sergeant Mick Delaney really hated missing person's cases, especially cases in the middle of a heatwave when he needed to be out there to make it look like there was about to be some big break in the investigation. Forty-four degrees...ninety per cent humidity...no sleep...

Delaney grumbled to himself that he had to be an idiot as he threw his tie around his neck, grabbed a notebook and scooped up the keys to the car.

After seventeen years, he'd learned to deal with the less appealing aspects of being a member of the New South Wales Police Force. The blood and guts of murder scenes, whilst gory, no longer bothered him and he was more than happy to sit for hours in an unmarked vehicle staking out a potential suspect. He'd once even gone so far as to willingly abandon his wife's home cooking to make a drug bust at ten past eight on a Sunday night. But missing person's cases, particularly those involving teenagers? Delaney had only four words to say...thanks, but no thanks. Trust him to be the detective on duty when the Townsend parents came in to report that their fifteen-year-old twins were missing. Now all of a sudden he was in charge of the whole damn thing, and to say he was cheesed off about it was being polite.

It also wasn't helping that the parents had conflicting opinions on the behavioural traits of their missing boys. Hell, those two couldn't even agree on what the damn kids had been wearing. The mother, the pretty blonde with the streaked mascara, said that they were wearing blue jeans and long sleeved tee shirts and whilst they were typical fifteen year olds pushing the boundaries whenever they could, they were good, reliable kids who stayed out of trouble and generally kept to themselves.

The father, the tall guy with the big mouth, bung nose and dimples, couldn't have disagreed more. He was adamant that his sons had far too much attitude, were "bloody" unreliable and that David, the older one of the two, would do just about anything if he thought it would help him prove a point.

"They were wearing shorts. At least I know David was. I was mucking around in the lounge this morning and flicked him between the legs with my towel."

"I'm sorry, Mr Delaney, but Damien's not right. They were both wearing jeans when they left the resort and David was carrying a blue backpack. I saw both of them clearly when they walked past the cafe where the two of us were having breakfast."

"Laura, I saw those boys and I'm telling you that it wasn't them."

"How would _you_ know? You were far too busy talking about your involvement in that stupid Electricity Project."

Parents, Delaney growled to himself, remembering the heated exchange. Maybe if they'd spent more time talking to their teenagers instead of arguing, the kids wouldn't be missing in the first place.

As Delaney swung around the corner on his way out of the station, he suddenly came face to face with two more pains in the ass, both which irritated him even more than the job of trying to find the missing boys. The first one was a group of waiting reporters, microphones and cameras at the ready, keen for their daily update on the progress of the search. The second sat at his desk eating crackers from a lunchbox...a bumbling, fresh-faced, city-born "newbie" fresh out of the police academy whose only job was to man the vid phone and record any new information.

The reporters had been okay, at least so far, although he could only imagine what today's little press conference had the potential to bring. An army of over two hundred police, state emergency services personnel and civilian volunteers scouring a sixty-mile radius had come up with absolutely nothing. It was like the two boys had left the resort and simply vanished. Add to that the good old "newbie," who couldn't even take a message or be sure about its accuracy. How hard was it for someone to take down details of an anonymous tip-off and remember who the hell saw who, what, where and when? This whole thing was shaping up to be a text book case on how _not_ to find a missing person.

Then Delaney reminded himself that he was the one who was in charge.

As he strode through the front door, trying to look like he was pursuing a new lead, Delaney braced himself for what he knew was about to be a full-blown media onslaught. The disappearance of the Townsend twins was growing news and the media pack had quadrupled in size in the past forty eight hours. What had once been just the local journo and a couple of guys from Sydney had swollen to include radio jocks and a frazzled bunch of hot and bothered personalities from some of the leading television stations in the country.

"Wonderful," Delaney groaned as he saw their anticipation. Now he had to worry if he still had the coffee stain splattered down the front of his tie.

"_Detective Delaney, do you think the search is concentrating on the wrong area?"_

"_How long can those boys realistically survive out there in this extreme heat?" _

"_Is it true that you are under pressure to start scaling the search down?"_

"_Can you tell me if the rumour about the blue van is true?"_

Delaney shook his head and held up his hands to the barrage of questions. This thing was getting hotter than the temperature and he wasn't about to let these guys make him look like he was out of his depth. The fact was that the newbie _had _received a tip-off about two boys talking to a man in a dark blue van but the moron had forgotten to turn on the sound recorder on the vid phone and had been left with nothing to rely on but his memory. He _thought_ the caller had said the guy in the van was one of the local rock climbers, "_But then again,_ _sir, maybe I got the whole thing wrong and he said it was one of the local...ah...rock spiders."_

Even though he'd been counting to ten and back again at the time, just the mention of those scumbags had been enough to make Delaney's gut fill with dread. There were far too many of them living in the Wentworth Falls area for his liking. He'd have to keep that little snippet of information to himself until he had time to check all the known ones out.

"The New South Wales Police and State Emergency Service volunteers are doing everything possible to locate the missing boys, " he said, managing to make it sound like he was calm. "I can confirm that the area being searched on the ground will be widened today to include additional locations to the north east and north west of Wentworth Falls and Katoomba. The aerial and heat detector searches will continue until the two boys are found."

"_But what about the van, Detective?"_

"_That would certainly explain why there have been no local sightings of the boys."_

"_Is it possible that they accepted a ride from the driver?"_

"_Do you have any other leads?"_

Delaney felt the sweat that had been pooling around his collar for the past five minutes start trickling down his chest and back. He had nothing concrete to tell them that would satisfy the questions and he wasn't about to open his mouth, either, until he'd managed to establish all the facts.

"I am not at liberty to divulge what additional information the police are pursuing at the moment." His tone was gruff. "What I can say is that over two hundred police and State Emergency Service volunteers are doing everything they can to locate the missing boys as soon as possible. Now if you will excuse me, please…" He pulled out the cell phone that was demanding to be answered in his pocket. "…I have to be getting back to work. There will be an official statement released on the progress of the search later today."

With that, Delaney eased his way through the group and took the call, hoping that no-one still had a camera rolling on his back to highlight the fact that his white polyester shirt was soaked.

"This is Delaney."

"Delaney, it's Hewitt. Are you coming down here or what?"

Delaney glanced at his watch. Shit! Half an hour ago he'd promised the co-ordinator of the ground search teams that he'd be there in less than fifteen to get the latest update on the search. He braced himself, expecting Hewitt to give him an earful.

"Sorry, I'm leaving now; slight distraction on the way out."

"That little bunch I saw gathered outside the Station when I drove past?"

"Bingo."

"Better you than me." Senior Sergeant Daniel Hewitt's sarcasm made it more than clear that he could have the media circus all to himself. Missing kids were news, especially in a heatwave and in a place with terrain as dangerous as Wentworth Falls. The rugged cliffs, dense bushland, unfenced ledges and caves were bad enough; it was the potential for dehydration and the likelihood of exposure that added to the complexity of the task. After three full days and no luck with the aerial infrared detection equipment, their likelihood of survival was starting to look pretty grim.

"Have you started those extra three teams in the Gordon Ridge area yet?" Now in the car with the air conditioner blasting full bore, Delaney was a better mood to talk. Hewitt sure wasn't and his response wasn't good.

"Delaney, I don't have the men. I just got off the line from the head honcho of the SES in Sydney. He's withdrawn all twenty of his Newcastle guys as of now and said that we just had to suck the decision up. Some bull about the Minister ordering more than a skeleton crew to be on standby up there."

"On standby? Standby for _what?_"

"How the hell am I supposed to know that, Delaney? All I know is that I'm twenty guys down."

* * *

_**10.55pm**_

_**3**__**rd**__** January 2027**_

_**National Seismology Research Centre**_

_**North Sydney**_

_**Australia**_

The next time they called for leave applications for the holidays, he was going to get his act together and make sure he was the first in line. No more being a hero or saving up the days for a big overseas vacation. Running this place with a tenth of the staff was nothing but a total farce. Not only was he expected to plough through his own data analysis, which had trebled by the way since the other two guys got laid off, he also had to keep his eye on over one hundred accelerographs as well as deal with all the political crap that was starting to escalate thanks to the increase in seismicity near Newcastle.

He was sure those clowns over in the CSIRO had nothing better to do when they'd dragged the Emergency Services Minister into it. The loudmouth had been ringing him every half an hour demanding another "hourly" update. Sure, the trends were a little worrying but he'd seen worse than this before.

He'd had enough for tonight. Stuff the CSIRO and stuff the Minister. He'd been running around this place like a nut for the past sixteen and a half hours and he was tired. It wasn't like he was getting paid the big bucks. The boss been recalled to start back tomorrow so let _him_ be the one going ten rounds with the Minister.

It was time to start automating the monitoring equipment, drag his sorry ass out of here and go home.

* * *

_**Tracy Island**_

_**Five hours later**_

Jeff Tracy's eyes scanned the room impatiently, the tapping of his fingers increasing in speed as the minutes continued to slip by. It wasn't like his sons to take this long to respond to the emergency siren, even if it was just after midnight and, in his case, part of another sleepless night at the desk waiting for something to happen in Australia.

He glanced at the oversized electronic image of the east coast of New South Wales that a bleary-eyed Brains was projecting from down in the lab. Each marked location had been carefully categorised according to the individual recorded series of seismic activity received from Thunderbird Five – green for negligible, blue for risk, orange for a potential target, and now, as he heard the footsteps heading in the direction of the lounge, the epicentre of red confirming exactly what he'd feared was going to happen for the last six tension-filled days.

An earthquake had struck the sprawling city of Newcastle. John was currently in contact with the local Emergency Management Committee trying to obtain further details.

"Father, what's my brief?"

The question came from Scott, who strode in first, fully dressed and ready to launch Thunderbird One. Jeff motioned his eldest towards the desk and indicated the epicentre on the electronic image while he waited for the others to hurry in behind him.

"I'm afraid it's bad news, and exactly what Brains predicted. I'm waiting for another update from John before I decide whether we need to become involved in the situation."

"Australia," Alan muttered.

"Yes Alan, _Australia_," Jeff emphasised. "It seems we weren't far wrong in pinpointing the location. Apparently the earthquake hit the central and southern areas of Newcastle around two hours ago."

"Any casualties, Father?" Virgil's quiet voice from the corner was filled with its usual concern.

"I don't know yet, son."

"What about the potential of aftershocks?"

"I don't know that either. We'll just have to be patient, Scott, until John gets back to…"

Right on cue, the portrait flashed. All eyes lifted expectantly to the wall.

John Tracy wasted no time in relaying the information he'd received from the Disaster Recovery Centre which had been hastily set up in Newcastle. The earthquake had measured seven point five on the Richter scale and fortunately, if that was the right word for it, had occurred in the early hours of the morning when traffic and pedestrians were at a minimum. Initial reports were that the buildings all along Hunter Street and homes in the inner suburb of Broadmeadow had taken the most significant hit. The biggest problem so far appeared to be the two ruptured water mains near a local nightclub which had turned into major gushers. They were causing havoc with attempts to clear the rubble away from the doors and those trapped inside were starting to panic.

"Father?"

Jeff frowned and deliberately ignored the unspoken question from his eldest. Despite the build-up of the last few days, he still wasn't entirely convinced that the situation was critical enough to warrant the launch of International Rescue.

"What's the situation with the residential area, John?" he demanded sharply, trying to fast-track his decision-making.

"They said they'd get back to me once they knew more about it, Dad."

"No preliminary reports of total destruction? No concerns for potential loss of life?"

"No sir, nothing yet."

Jeff pursed his lips. "All right, thanks, son. I think we'll just sit tight on this for now."

"But Dad, what about those people trapped in the nightclub?"

"Did the authorities ask for our help with that, John?"

"Err...no. I guess that they think they have the situation under control."

"That's right John, they probably do. And if that's the case I see no reason to send you boys into something that the authorities believe they can handle. Keep me posted if the situation changes."

"FAB, Dad."

John's image on the screen returned immediately to its static portrait mode, leaving the rest of them standing motionless in the lounge.

"So _now_ what?" Scott frowned, exasperated. After living life on standby, he had been almost relieved to be woken by the shrill blast summoning them all to the lounge. Every part of him was bristling with a raw nervous energy. He _wanted…_ no, he _needed_ to get out there.

"We sit tight," Jeff repeated and reached forward to jab at the remote to return the muted screen to the live newscast. "If they need us, Scott, they'll call." Then he sat back and braced himself for what he knew was coming next.

Alan, of course, didn't let him down, with the usual double dose of sighing and eye-rolling. Virgil gave him the look that always made him feel like he'd scraped his nails down a chalkboard. Gordon's expression and curt nod said it all. And as for Scott…

His eldest swung away from the desk and made it very clear that he wasn't about to sit around for the rest of the night waiting for any change to the decision.

"I've had enough of this freaking situation in Australia," he snapped as he strode back in the direction of his rooms. "If you need me, you know where to find me." Muttered cursing followed as he disappeared into the hall.

"I think your brother's right," Jeff said, making the best of the outburst. "Go back to bed, boys. No sense all of us losing out on a good night's sleep. If I hear anything further from John, I'll call you. Good night."

"Okay, Father."

"Yes, sir."

"Sure, night, Dad."

And if Alan thought his father didn't hear what followed the "night, Dad" as he walked out, he was going to be very badly mistaken in the morning.

"I assume there is no longer a need for any of this, sir?"

Jeff's frown, courtesy of what he'd just heard come out of the mouth of his youngest, softened when Kyrano quietly distracted him with a tray piled high with sandwiches and a steaming pot of freshly brewed coffee.

"I'm sorry, Kyrano. It looks like you've gone to all this trouble for nothing, unless of course you've got a ham and cheese hidden somewhere in among all those sandwiches. I've just sent the boys back to bed, "

Kyrano moved to set down the tray on the desk to locate the required sandwich. "The situation is not critical?"

"Not critical enough to warrant our involvement, no, although I'm not so certain that the boys agreed with me. A few frayed tempers, as I'm sure you just heard."

"I think your sons were keen to go, Mr Tracy."

"Well, they'll be even keener if their grandmother's overheard their language."

A hint of a smile stole across Kyrano's stoic face. He'd made a point of asking Tin-Tin to check that his employer's elderly mother was a long way from the lounge the moment that he'd heard the emergency siren.

"Mrs Tracy is still asleep, sir."

Jeff's own brief smile indicated that they were both on exactly the same wavelength. "Looks like the decision to sound proof her room last month is turning out to be a pretty useful investment."

The newscast soon became the only sound in the room as Kyrano pour two cups of coffee. Just Kyrano's presence and his gentle, methodical movements were enough to keep things focussed and to reassure Jeff that he was doing the right thing. The situation in Newcastle now seemed to be under control, at least according to the images he was seeing on the screen. Jeff was glad that the authorities were finally managing. It had been touch and go there for a while.

"You made the right decision, sir," came from beside him.

"I like to think so, old friend. "

"_And moving on to other news… the extensive search continues in the Blue Mountains area for two fifteen-year-old brothers missing in the Wentworth Falls area since Tuesday the twenty-ninth of December. In a statement issued late yesterday afternoon, Detective Michael Delaney of Katoomba Police confirmed that Jacob and David Townsend were on their way to Rocket Point Lookout and were last seen around nine-thirty am talking to the driver of a late model dark blue van parked outside the Black Diamond Resort. Anyone with any information should call New South Wales Crime Stoppers on …_

Once again Jeff stabbed at the remote, this time to turn off the live screen.

"What's your take on that one, Kyrano? Those two boys must be out there somewhere. "

Kyrano was non-committal when he finally spoke. "It is one of those things that can be hard to judge, Mr Tracy. Perhaps the boys are genuinely lost. Perhaps they have been taken from the location and harmed."

"Mmmm..." The tapping on the desk started again. "Let's hope it isn't the latter. But just in case… It might be worthwhile to get John to see if he can check the satellite net and get a lead on that van. If he can find it, then we can put in a call to the detective and tell him where it is."

"A very good idea, sir."

"Of course the priority still has to keeping an eye on the situation in Newcastle."

"Yes, but knowing Mr John as I do, I'm sure he can satisfactorily do both."

John's response was immediate. The additional information he now had on hand supported the earlier decision. International Rescue didn't need to be involved. The water mains near the nightclub were under control and the rescue teams were in the process of getting out the people who were trapped inside. He didn't have a problem running the scanners over the available satellite images of the area before he turned in for the night.

"FAB, Dad. I'll let you know what I find."

"Thanks John."

"If that van was there, Kyrano, then John will find it."

"I have no doubt about that, sir."

John came back on line within fifteen minutes. "Dad, I'm pretty sure that I've found the van. It was parked outside that resort around nine thirty-five. I couldn't see whether the boys were there – the roofline of one of the buildings was in the way of the shot. But I've got images of it leaving the resort not long afterwards... I've pinpointed it at nine forty-nine."

Jeff leaned forward. "What happened to it then, John?"

"I'm sorry Dad … I can't be sure. I lost track of it when it turned into some sort of parking garage nearby. Did you want me to contact the police and tell them what we know?"

Jeff looked at Kyrano. "It mightn't be a bad idea for you to do that, son. It looks like they might have a kidnapping on their hands."


	7. Chapter 7

_Author__'__s Note: - My apologies to those who have been following this story. Real life has certainly slowed down the editing process. Thank you to Jaimi-Sam for your encouragement and help. mcj _

******* RECOVERY *******

**CHAPTER SIX**

* * *

_**January 4, 2027**_

_**Tracy Island**_

"_We simply can__'__t afford to keep getting bogged down in what__'__s happening in Australia.__"_

Startled by the force behind the unexpected interruption, Brains hesitated, unsure whether he was supposed to continue. Trying to explain the significance of the fresh wave of seismic activity John had detected along the east coast wasn't easy when Jeff Tracy had "other things" on his mind.

"Brains, "Jeff stressed, "I understand what you're trying to say but John's already confirmed with the authorities that their monitoring and research centres are keeping a close eye on it."

Brains reddened a little and twisted his fingers together, frustrated. Of course the Australian monitoring and research centres were "keeping a close eye on it" and he realised, too, that John would have made contact with the authorities for confirmation before making the call to alert them at the base. It wasn't the point he was trying to make.

"I...err... know all that, Mr Tracy," he stammered, trying again. "But this time I've managed to pick up some extremely...err...worrying patterns."

This time the response he received was tinged with real impatience.

"Yes...and if those patterns indicate there's something we need to get involved in, I'm sure their experts will be the first to let us know."

"But Mr Tracy..."

"Look, Brains, I'm not going to argue about this. It's a completely different situation to the one we thought we were dealing with last time. We both know that I only put the boys on standby because most of those people were still on vacation. International Rescue needs to channel its energies elsewhere for the time being and by that I mean finally doing something about fitting Thunderbird Two with those new grabs."

His position clear, Jeff then glanced over to where Scott was sitting, arms crossed, listening to the conversation. The two of them had only just finished discussing what was needed to get the radical new design off the drawing board and into production a few minutes before Brains had walked in. Scott was adamant the grabs needed to be fitted before they received another distress call and Jeff was determined to play his part by not allowing Brains to be side-tracked. Easier said than done when Scott suddenly seemed more interested in what the young scientist had to say about Australia.

Jeff frowned, folded his arms and gave his attention back to Brains.

"These patterns you're referring to," he said, only prepared to let the explanation go on for so long. "What exactly do they mean? Are you saying there's the potential for another earthquake?"

Brains opened the folder containing a copy of the latest data he'd received from Thunderbird Five.

"Yes, Mr Tracy. That's exactly what I'm trying to... err...tell you. If I'm interpreting these correctly and I…err… believe I am..." He held out a summary. "...there is definitely the potential for things to get a whole lot ...err…much worse."

Now it was Scott's turn to voice an opinion and he directed it towards his father, not Brains.

"I guess there's always the chance we might be needed … but I'm not so sure the solution should be to automatically put ourselves back on standby. You saw what happened the last time and I wasn't the only one who wasn't impressed. No disrespect Brains, but for my money I think International Rescue should only get involved in this one again, _when _we're required, not if. "

Jeff pursed his lips together and weighed things up. He appreciated why Brains had real concerns but on the other hand, he also knew that his eldest was right when it came down to the organisation being at its most effective. John monitored potentially dangerous situations all over the world on a daily basis and ninety-five per cent of the time there was never going to be any need for International Rescue.

"Scott has a point, Brains," he said with growing conviction. "If we all sat around on high alert every time John lets us know he's watching something, nothing would ever get done around here."

"And if we _are_ needed in Australia," Scott followed on, taking the lead, "I'd like to think that Thunderbird Two had grabs that are guaranteed to stand up to whatever I ask Virgil to do with them. We honestly thought we were going to lose Houseman during that last rescue and I know I won't be comfortable until I know for sure that Thunderbird Two has been equipped with the additional capability. I say we prioritise the production of the grabs and leave the monitoring up to the authorities."

Jeff nodded, decision made.

"I agree with you, son, and that's exactly what we're going to do."

Brains sighed, reluctantly accepting the verdict. When the commander and the field commander both wanted the same thing, it was pointless doing anything but find the fastest way to give it to them. The design only required a little more fine-tuning. Swift manufacture inside the Tracy Corporation was a given when its chief executive officer gave the order and pushed. With no interruptions and the usual teamwork he estimated that the new equipment could be fitted to Thunderbird Two and ready for testing in around four to five days.

"That's great news, Brains. If you need me to pull any strings let me know."

"Yes... I'll…err…do that, Mr Tracy. Do you need me for anything else?"

"No thanks, Brains. I'll let you get back to work. If you see Alan on your way out, tell him I'm free if he still wants to have that word."

"Err...yes, sir."

After Brains had made his exit, Jeff responded to Scott's questioning look.

"I understand they want to spend time away from the island, together."

"Alan told you that?" Scott sounded surprised.

"No... Kyrano. Over a cognac last night. According to him, it's going to be their way of finally bringing things out into the open. It's been on the cards for months, I suppose, so I told him I'm okay with it as long as he is. Unfortunately, with this latest development in Australia, all leave is going to be out of the question."

Scott raised his eyebrows, picturing the reaction. "Oh boy; Alan's not going to be too happy about that."

"I know he isn't," Jeff conceded. "But at the moment I'm afraid we can't take the risk. Just make yourself scarce when I need to have the conversation, will you?"

"No problem, Dad. You won't need to tell _me_ twice!"

Jeff restrained himself from chuckling, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Don't worry. I'm sure Alan will understand that there's no way I can authorize the two of them leaving the island right now."

The look he received from Scott told him he was either being an optimist or he honestly didn't have a clue.

* * *

_**Two days later**_

_**Katoomba Police Station**_

_**Australia**_

Delaney didn't get it. The whole thing was bizarre. And he swore if that idiot Channel Nine reporter shoved that microphone in his face one more time, he was going to do more than just reach out and grab the stupid thing. He'd take a great deal of pleasure in jamming it up the guy's inquisitive ass.

Delaney barged into his office and slammed the door before ripping off the jacket he was obliged to wear in front of the cameras and throwing it down hard on the cheap linoleum floor. The Townsend case was now at boiling point and the latest press conference had done more than just proven it. More reporters…more questions…frayed tempers… it was bloody chaos. Any minute now he expected the Police Commissioner on the horn telling him he'd better pull his head in. Good luck with that, the way Delaney was feeling at the moment. One more request to "please explain," accusation or ridiculous assumption from anyone and he'd be sorely tempted to cut loose, say what he really thought and quit.

He couldn't take his mind off the two missing boys. Eight days since their disappearance and he was still no closer to finding them. There was still no trace of the elusive dark blue van. Still no sign of anything to indicate they'd managed to get themselves lost in the bush. It was like nothing he'd ever been involved in before and the media just wouldn't leave it alone.

And the strain was not only starting to take its toll on him, but also on his primary man, Hewitt.

Hewitt was on the brink of physical exhaustion. He still led from the front but even Delaney had started to recognise the tell-tale signs of fatigue in a face lined with worry and baked raw from the summer sun. Hewitt had single-handedly assembled and co-ordinated all the search teams ever since this debacle had begun, leaving at dawn every morning and only returning when it was dark. He'd trudged miles and miles in every direction, enduring temperatures and conditions from absolute hell in the hope that he might still be able to find the kids alive.

"_Just give me one more day, Delaney.__"_

That had been two days ago. Realistically, was there still any hope?

"_There are a lot of streams down there, Delaney.__"_

Yeah there were… and they'd all been searched.

International Rescue had given him a little bit of optimism when they'd confirmed that a van matching the description had been seen on their satellite image being driven into some sort of parking garage. Too bad the lead had fizzled out, despite the provision of the exact co-ordinates.

"_I__'__m sorry sir, there__'__s nothing here to match the vehicle description.__"_

"_What about the damn security footage?__"_

"_Negative, sir.__"_

So if International Rescue had confirmed the vehicle existed, where in the hell had it gone?

Delaney sank into a chair and opened up his notebook. The key to this mess had to be in here somewhere. It had to be. He didn't need to see himself replayed on the six o'clock news to be reminded that the Townsend twins were running out of time. In another twenty-four hours he was going to have to scale down the search.

The knock on the door was an unwelcome distraction and the newbie came in without waiting to be asked. The kid was in the eleventh hour of an eight hour shift and with his crumpled shirt, bleary eyes, loose tie and untied laces, looked almost as bad as Michael Delaney felt himself.

"Excuse me, sir..."

"_What now?__"_ Delaney growled in exasperation.

He watched as the newbie looked everywhere but at him, clearly trying to find the best way to deliver the bad news.

"I've ...um ...got Commissioner Davis on hold on line two. He wants to know when you'll be available to speak to him, sir. Somehow I...um...think he might have seen what happened during the press conference."

Delaney huffed. "The whole of Australia probably saw what happened during the bloody press conference."

Even Delaney had to admit that it hadn't been good. Telling the media point blank on national television that "their speculative bullshit" was hindering and not helping the investigation was never going to sit well with a Police Commissioner who championed the importance of media involvement in high profile cases.

"Um... what do you want me to say to him, sir?"

Delaney leaned sideways, picked up his suit coat and growled.

"I don't want you to say anything. Just put the call through and try to find bloody Hewitt."

A fat, balding, five-foot-three "government yes man" was the last thing Delaney needed to deal with right now but he knew he didn't have much of a choice. The image on the vid-phone screen confirmed that not only was Commissioner Davis' short man syndrome completely off its leash, he was furious and clearly in damage control mode.

"I'm not exactly sure what you were trying to achieve during that press conference, Detective Delaney," he barked, "but openly criticising the media is no way to go about trying to find those missing boys."

Delaney's first reaction was to say "screw you." Davis was probably still tucked up nice and tight in bed when Hewitt and the search teams hit the track each morning and sitting on his ass lapping up the air-conditioning for the rest of the time they were out there, too. He really didn't give a damn what Davis thought about his outburst. Those reporters had been out of line with their crazy assumptions and he wasn't prepared to sit there like some stunned mullet and say nothing to them in return.

"I'm sorry, sir," he responded, managing to find some civility. "It's been another long day out here and what was being insinuated needed to be strongly denied."

But Davis wasn't about to cut him any slack. The belligerence turned to ice and his facial expression was colder still.

"May I remind you that you are the lead in this particular investigation, Detective? The public face of the New South Wales Police Force with the eyes of the country squarely on _you._ "Speculative bullshit," is no way for you to "strongly deny" anything or a term I recommend you use during any future press conferences. Do I make myself clear?"

The words lingered again on the tip of Delaney's tongue. This guy was such an ass. What in the hell had Delaney been expected to say? "Yes" he guessed it was still a possibility that the boys had been lured into some filthy Rock Spider's ring? "Yes" they could have been drugged and whisked away for a similar purpose elsewhere in the world or "yes" they might be currently earning their keep in the back alleys somewhere in the middle of King's Cross? It _was_ all bullshit and he'd said exactly that.

However, he remained controlled despite how he felt. "Very clear, sir, although I believe that any type of affirmative response from me would probably have ended up as tomorrow's headline."

"You think your response isn't already going to be tomorrow's headline?" The coldness had dropped another ten degrees to sub zero. "The Police Minister was down here earlier on demanding that I hold a press conference myself in an attempt to keep a lid on this mess. In case you need me to spell it out, your job is on the line, Detective, so I suggest you give me all the details and don't leave anything out. "

As Delaney's blood pressure rose in response to the threat, the newbie barged through the half-open door.

"Detective Delaney, sir... Senior Sergeant Hewitt's on hold on the other line. He said he needs to speak to you, immediately."

Delaney finally cracked and swung away from the vid-phone. "I only asked you to _find _Hewitt for me, not damn well put him through. Can't you see that I'm still on the other call?"

"I can, sir but I'm afraid that he found me first. He said it was urgent."

For an instant Delaney fell silent, his frustration giving way to dread, anticipation and then to a combination of both. He knew Dan Hewitt well enough to know what urgent meant. He had to have new information on the fate of the missing boys.

Nodding at the newbie to put the call through, he froze Davis in mid-sentence. If his job was on line, another black mark wasn't going to make any difference. The arrogant ass hadn't even realised he'd turned away from their confrontation.

Hewitt was on the screen within seconds.

"Mick, I need you down here," he quavered, his voice laced heavy with emotion. "We've roped off part of section eight nine four...

Delaney held his breath.

"...I think we've found the red backpack..."

* * *

_**January 7 2027**_

_**Charlie's Bar & Grill**_

_**Surfers Paradise**_

_**Gold Coast**_

_**Australia**_

"Did I tell you how good it feels to finally spend some time alone with you?" Alan asked Tin-Tin.

"Let me see…only ten times since we checked into the hotel last night."

But she smiled at him and her eyes held a certain sparkle when she said it, so Alan decided his question wasn't quite as pathetic as it first sounded to him.

She sat opposite him wearing a crisp white strapless dress and no make-up. In his opinion, she didn't need it. She also wore an impressive new ruby ring; one he'd purchased a few months back when he was racing near San Francisco and until now hadn't had the right opportunity to give to her. Its subtle red richness complimented the dress, her long dark hair and dusky skin. Alan drank every part of her in. Last night had all been very romantic and he was feeling pretty good about the space they were in right now. A great meal, good wine, the lack of inhibition in an openly shared bed …when he'd woken up beside her that morning he'd fully expected to find that it had all been nothing but another of his vivid satellite dreams.

They'd managed to score the best table in the popular restaurant; the one that overlooked busy Cavill Avenue on one side and the crowded swimming beach on the other. One of the finest beaches in the world, or so the concierge continued to tell them, and from what they'd managed to see of it over the last nine hours, there was no reason for either of them to disbelieve it. Surfers Paradise and its never-ending expanse of golden sand, sky blue water and rolling white-capped waves was really something compared to the rocky outcrops and sandy inlets they lived with back at the base. It was the perfect backdrop for another evening with the girl he was so crazy about. For Alan, life couldn't get any better than this.

He'd agreed to spend the time on the Gold Coast in South East Queensland after a long and tense discussion with his father. Whilst the seismic activity along the east coast didn't appear to be intensifying, the regular reports from Thunderbird Five continued to confirm that it wasn't any less. His father had been adamant that he still wanted to be careful, in the end only agreeing to give them the few days off on the condition they were willing to be recalled if required.

"And I expect you to be wearing your wrist communicators at all times." The instruction had been directed at both of them. "If I need either of you, the response is to be immediate. Do you understand?"

Alan looked at the delicate piece of technology encircling Tin-Tin's wrist and then at what he was wearing on his own. So much for the pact of no International Rescue, but given who he was with, he guessed he didn't mind.

Charlie's Bar and Grill offered cheap drinks between five and six every afternoon, with the food generously discounted to encourage people leaving the beach to drop in on their way home and eat. When the huge seafood platter arrived, along with a bottle of vintage Australian Moet, all the two of them could do was look at each other, astounded. With Grandma in the house, they were accustomed to being offered large quantities of food but their waiter had just delivered enough fresh lobster, prawns and crab to feed everyone on Tracy Island.

"Wow! "Alan exclaimed. "Doesn't this look great, Tin-Tin?"

Tin-Tin smiled and agreed. "Yes Alan. It certainly looks good."

He looked across at her, a little disappointed. "Only good?"

The smile was bigger now. "Oh, all right. It's much better than good. How about I say it's as good as the time we had last night? Is that a more descriptive comparison?"

He picked up one of the prawns and arched his eyebrows, the sensations and images of the past twenty four hours still extremely fresh in his mind.

"Last night was pretty amazing, Tin-Tin."

"Only amazing?" Her lips curled at the edges again as she unsuccessfully tried to feign the same disappointment.

He began to laugh. "Hey, now don't you start pretending you're all offended. Amazing is most descriptive word I have in my whole vocabulary."

She laughed too, picked up a toothpick and plunged it into the centre of one the delicate chunks of freshly cooked lobster.

"I still don't know how you even got your father to agree to this," she commented, before taking a mouthful.

"Yeah, he sure took some convincing. Agreeing to go only as far as Australia certainly helped." Then he winked. "Plus I suspect we may have had a little help from Grandma."

"Oh, dear." She made a face as they laughed together in unison. Both of them were more than aware of Alan's grandmother's covert ways and that if anyone could get his father to change his mind about anything, it was always going to be her.

"But I think that's what makes this feel so strange, Alan." Tin-Tin became serious.

"Strange? Really? Why do you say that?"

She shrugged, helping herself to the lobster again. "Oh, I don't know. Here we are… the two of us in this beautiful place…eating wonderful food…drinking champagne… yet, less than eight hundred miles from here, so many people are still homeless after that earthquake."

Alan swallowed the rest of his champagne and then reached forward to pick up the bottle to refill their glasses.

"Yeah, I know Tin-Tin, but I don't think there's anything more we can do to help. Dad didn't see the need for us to get involved when it was obvious that the authorities were coping. I guess it's hard to accept that these things just happen and that they can happen to anyone in the world at any time."

"Of course they can, Alan. I suppose it seems different to me this time because we're enjoying ourselves so close to it. I feel like ... I don't know ..."

"Honey, we do everything we can, you know that. We can't save the entire world by ourselves. Dad says that all the time, and he's right. We can't. Try not to think about it anymore, okay?"

"I can't help it. I feel guilty when I think about those poor people. I wish there was something more that International Rescue could do to help."

He put down his glass and shook his head at her.

"Tin-Tin, I thought we both agreed that there was to be no International Rescue for the next three days. No International Rescue…no fathers…no brothers…you promised me."

She coloured a little.

"I'm sorry. I suppose you're right. It's not like the world can't do without the two of us for the next couple of days."

He indicated the seafood, their glasses of champagne and the additional bottle delivered to the table by the management, "compliments of the house."

"The world is going to have to. It'll take us three days just to finish all this. And besides..." He took both her hands in his own; his turn to be serious. "...I guess I'm feeling kind of selfish right now. I want to have you all to myself."


End file.
